


There's Nothing Out There Like Me

by agberts



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Eating Disorders, F/F, Genderswap, Happy Ending, Kissing, Lesbians in Space, Misunderstandings, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-01 10:14:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16763110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agberts/pseuds/agberts
Summary: Jim Kirk is convinced that Spock hates her. Why? Because of amateur Vulcan sociological analysis!





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> This piece is not meant to be a statement about the nature of binary genders and should not be taken as me claiming 'she' pronouns are the opposite of 'he' pronouns. Instead, think of how much changing the genders of the characters highlights how few female characters are actually in ST:TOS.  
> Additionally, this fic is based far more on TOS than the AOS movies if you're wondering why Amanda Grayson is alive and I never mention the Kobayashi Maru or the Academy.

Jim Kirk checked her PADD then did a double take as one document after the next disappeared from her inbox as it refreshed. Quickly, she tapped one before it could vanish with the others. Each line was filled out, the additional information section has a secondary document attached, which detailed the survey mission of the X18-Zeta star system last week. Either she was suddenly being haunted by a very bureaucratic ghost or someone had been doing all of her paperwork for her. 

Based on the rigorous and incredibly precise style of completion, she didn’t need to think overly hard about who might be behind it. Besides, only Commander Spock had access to her files. Jim closed out of the document. Only a handful of items remained in her inbox -- requisition forms, requests, personnel paperwork -- all things which required her final signature before being sent back to the Admiralty. 

This was exactly why Jim found Spock unbearable. That she’d go out of her way to do Jim’s job like Jim wasn’t perfectly capable of sending an email attachment. Jim knew that she was the youngest Captain in Starfleet history and still only about four months into her first mission but that didn’t mean she’s inexperienced or untested. It didn’t mean that Spock needed to hold her hand and overstep her bounds. 

If Jim wasn’t so tired she would have put more effort into sending a scathing message to Spock. As it were, she had been up almost twenty straight hours. The planet-side mission on Calcus-XV had gone sideways when one of the shuttles refused to take-off. Jim had had to spend hours on the comms trying to prevent the young ensigns aboard from panicking while Scotty walked them through repairing the ship. Half of them couldn’t understand the Chief of Engineering’s accent and the others were too sure they were going to die to help with refusing the fuel container to the engine block.

Instead she typed out: _‘Saw you did the paperwork. Thanks.’_ Hopefully that would get the message across and Spock wouldn’t try and do Jim’s job for her again. 

* * *

Winona Kirk never wanted her daughter to be passed over for a job just because she had a feminine name. Winona knew all sorts about a name being a barrier -- what kind of monster saddled their child with a name like Winona? Besides, if the baby wanted to follow her parents into the Fleet, she would need a name her superiors couldn’t sneer down on or patronize her with. So when her late husband George suggested they name their second child Jamie after his grandmother, Winona had put her foot down and insisted they name her James. James was a name a kid could go far with. 

Winona Kirk never expected just how far her daughter would go. Never realized that James would burn her way through the stars. Perhaps, later, Winona would regret not giving James a name like Olivia, a safe name, a name that never went to Tarsus and never sat in a jail cell and never had to use a phaser to put an officer out of their misery after their limbs had been blasted off and there was no hope of keeping them from bleeding out. An Olivia Kirk would live in Iowa and dream of space and never be in any danger at all, never live any kind of life.

* * *

When James was a young child, before her father died in a transporter accident, before her mother took a post off-planet, before she had been sent off to Tarsus IV, she was the most precocious child Winona had ever met. If there was a game, James would fight to win. If there was a race, James would run as hard as she could, even when the race was against her older, taller brother. She could climb a tree faster than a squirrel, would shimmy up onto the roof of whatever building took her fancy. 

It was during these years that she started going by Jim. Sam, who could never really decide if he wanted to be called Samuel or not, had insisted that if everyone were to call him by Sam, James would need to be called Jim. James hadn’t minded -- at the time she had looked up to Sam to an inordinate degree -- and gratefully accepted ‘Jim’. Of course, after they had grown up, they were such different people. Jim and Sam had lived lives as disparate as possible for two people who had been born from the same parents and being only three years apart in age. 

* * *

When Jim was in her late teens and back in Riverside because Frank was unconscious or gone for enough of day for Jim to engage in whatever delinquent behavior she wanted to, she had dated a girl named Devah. Devah was nice enough, not unattractive. But she was unambitious in a way even Jim couldn’t justify and once she had paused in the middle of a make-out session on her parent’s porch to ask if Jim would ever consider going by Jamie because “You know, it’s cuter. People wouldn’t act all surprised when they realized you were a girl. Also, I hate having to explain all the time that you’re a real girl.” 

Jim had proceeded to ask, “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” and then dumped her. 

She stopped dating, no longer interested in having to explain her every life choice to whoever she was currently fucking. 

* * *

Down on some nameless planet known only by its coordinates, while helping the Science Department gather botanical samples, Jim inhaled an unidentified pollen and had an allergy attack. Spock was immediately at her side like she knew Jim was about to stop breathing. Bones must have packed an EpiPen in the medkit because an instant later she felt the telltale press and prick against her thigh and could feel her airways artificially open back up. Before she could fall to the ground, Spock was lowering her carefully, hands only touching Jim’s shoulder and side, only over her uniform. Right -- touch telepath. 

“Captain, are you alright?” Yeoman Erver asked. He was standing a few feet away holding a large plant. He was one of the beefier guys on the ship. Even though he’s in Engineering, if there’s a number of large things to be moved, you wanted him there to lend a hand. Even though Spock was the strongest officer by far, she only had the two arms. 

“I have administered the antihistamine, Yeoman,” Spock said cooly. “The Captain is fine.” Spock’s hands were still hovering a bare inch above Jim’s leg, still holding the hypo. She knelt next to where Jim had propped herself off. 

“Thank you for your concern,” Jim croaked and immediately regretted it as her throat stings. Had it really been so long since she’d last had an attack that she had forgotten that it hurts like a bitch if you try and talk right after? 

Spock stood. “Captain, you should beam back to the ship so Doctor McCoy can make sure there hasn’t been any permanent damage.” Before Jim could disagree and argue that she really was fine, Spock was already calling back up to the ship. “Lt. Commander Scott. Please beam up the Captain and alert Doctor McCoy that she has experienced an allergic episode.” 

Jim wanted to tell Spock off for just packing her back up to the ship but her voice caught in her throat and Scotty was as efficient as she ever was at beaming Jim back to the Enterprise. 

* * *

There was nothing quite like sitting in the Captain’s chair and looking out at the viewscreen as the stars blurred and passed by. There was the feeling of power that inherently comes with sitting in the center of the room, slightly raised up, but there was also the thrill of exploration, where the rest of the ship and the room faded away and only the inky black yonder remained. Jim didn’t think she could ever go back to Iowa after knowing what’s out _here_. 

“Chekov, status report,” Jim drawled. She had a meal break coming up soon but she didn’t want to leave if something interesting was going to happen soon. 

The young, Russian Ensign answered in her thick accent without turning around. “Captain Kirk, we still have thirty-four hours until we reach Epsilon IX at the current Warp 4.” Then under her breath she whispered something to Lt. Sulu who had to smother peals of laughter. Jim ignored them, resigning herself to quiet contemplations on the vastness of space. 

“Captain,” Spock said, “Perhaps it is time for you to -- as the colloquialism goes -- take lunch? Clearly your presence is not currently required on the Bridge.” Jim did not give Spock the dignity of turning around, seething while facing forward instead. What could possibly be wrong with Spock? Ordering Jim around like she was a child, like she couldn’t take care of herself or choose when to step away from the Bridge. 

Well Jim wouldn’t give Spock the pleasure of following her orders, even if Jim was starting to feel hungry. “Commander, I think I’ll be fine where I am for the time being.” That would show her, that would -- assert her dominance as Captain? Jim wondered if maybe she overreacted to simple concern, but then again was concern even a feeling Vulcans felt? 

An hour or so later, when Jim dismissed Uhura for his meal break, he said, “Captain, do you want me to bring you anything back?” Jim shook her head. She refused to give in now. “Are you sure?” he insisted. 

“I’m fine, Uhura,” Jim assured him. “No need to carry food halfway across the ship.” 

By the end of Alpha Shift, Jim would eat her PADD if she could. She must have never spent all of a shift on the Bridge if there wasn’t some kind of emergency. She had worked through her backlog of paperwork and then got a head start on the current mission report. Then, having nothing better to do, she had spent hours scrolling through news headlines. When the news couldn’t hold her attention any longer, she wondered if maybe she could draw and spent a long time trying to figure out how to depict the blur of the stars on the view screen before she gave up and admitted she probably didn’t have the artistic knowhow to sketch the Bridge properly. If anyone was going to draw the Enterprise, she would have to be damn good to even get close to representing how completely awe-inspiring Jim’s ship really was. 

Sulu turned to her as she gathered her PADD to leave. “Did you leave at all today?” 

“Oh, I was super busy,” Jim said. “Food just kind of slipped my mind.” Food had not slipped her mind but Jim was probably an intergalactic expert in ignoring the gnawing ache of hunger. “I’ll probably just go grab something now.” Before anyone can question her, she practically ran into the turbolift. 

Spock reached the lift at the same time and having no option, Jim boarded with her, letting the doors close on the two of them. After stating her destination, Spock turned to Jim and asked, “Why did you abstain from eating, Captain? Until today you have maintained a regular schedule.” 

“As I told Sulu, I wasn’t hungry,” Jim said, defensive. “Besides, I don’t really see how it’s any of your business whether I eat or not.” 

The Vulcan looked startled in the way that Vulcans can: Her forefinger twitched minutely and she side-eyed the exit to judge if she could force her way out if worst comes to worst and Jim showed any emotions. “I meant no offense, Captain. I have noticed that most crew members experience a 32.83% increase in productivity when they split their shift with a break.”

Right, like Jim wasn’t angry already. Now Spock was telling her that she’s ineffective because she spent one shift without a snack. “I would tell you that your worry is unwarranted in my case but I assume worry isn’t an emotion that Vulcans feel,” Jim practically snarled back. The lift doors opened and Jim rushed away before she has to face up to the fact she was just incredibly rude to her First Officer. 

After eating as much food as her replicator would spit out for her without alerting Bones that she was binging, Jim composes the most apologetic message she can. _“Sorry about earlier. Blood sugar must have been lower than I thought. I shouldn’t have said that. Your concern for the crew is admirable and you are a highly efficient First Officer.”_

A reply shows up almost immediately after Jim sent her’s. _“Captain. You have nothing to apologize for. However, your apology is still much appreciated. If you find yourself so overloaded with work as you did today that you neglected to eat, do not hesitate to delegate some of those tasks to myself as I had nothing so pressing that I couldn’t have lent my assistance.”_

Jim barely resisted the urge to throw her PADD against the wall, mostly because she didn’t want Spock to hear and knock on their shared bathroom door and ask if she was alright. Clearly Spock figured out that Jim hadn’t been doing anything for the majority of the shift and was passive aggressively letting her know because Vulcans could never be outright with anything. Jim was perfectly capable of doing her own work, even when the workload was heavier than it had been today. 

* * *

Eventually all problems end up in Medbay and Jim’s issues with Spock were no different. Jim rolled into Bones’ office a few days after the ‘lunch incident’, all smiles and winks to the medical staff who were so used to Jim’s unnecessary presence that a few even deigned to stop their very important work and smile back. Bones was seated at her desk, pouring over a new BioMed journal, sipping a mug of steaming coffee. When Jim entered, she closed the journal, leaded back in her chair, and took a long draw from her mug. 

“What can I do for you today, Jimmy?” she asked. “Because surely you didn’t come visit simply to tell me what a great job I’m doing down here -- healing people, whipping up miracle vaccines.” 

“Bones, you’re the best doctor this side of the Neutral Zone and you know it,” Jim replied. She sat down across of her friend with a sigh. “I’ve come about a more personal issue.” Before Bones could protest, she added, “And I want you to tell me what I should do, as my friend.” 

“Go ahead,” Bones said. “But I think I know what you’re here about.” 

“Oh,” Jim said. Had Spock told Bones about how Jim had skipped eating for about eight hours to prove a point? Was Spock’s hatred of Jim obvious enough that even Bones could see it from four decks away? But Jim wasn’t here about any of that today, not directly. Jim had shown up because she had a major realization. “I think I’ve figured out why Spock hates me.” 

Bones shook her head. “I’m not the hobgoblin’s biggest fan, believe you me, but trust me when I tell you that I don’t think hate is the right word for how Spock feels about you.” 

“That’s kind of what I realized. I don’t think that Spock hates me personally, maybe just dislikes me or whatever the Vulcan equivalent of dislike is. I think the reason Spock acts the way she does is because of cultural difference between Vulcans and Humans. Vulcans might be weird secretive about every aspect of their lives but I was reading an article which mentioned how strict their family structure was and I realized that Spock is like this because Spock doesn’t approve of a woman being in charge of a starship,” Jim explained. 

Before Bones could agree and applaud Jim for her amazing deduction, the red-alert alarm went off. “Go up to the Bridge,” Bones said. “We can finish this conversation another time.” 

* * *

The Admiralty had no respect for Ship Time or for Jim getting a full night’s rest. Komack called sometime around what Jim’s body insisted is 0300 and Jim had to roll out of bed and pull a uniform shirt over her tank-top. She continued wearing her soft sleep pants because the camera only catches from her rib cage up and she was still too asleep to go rooting through her dresser for actual pants. 

“What can I do for you, Admiral?” she asked, trying to appear as awake and alert as possible even though her head suddenly felt like it weighed three times as much and her eyelids were making a very good case as to why they should be closed. 

Komack cleared his throat and read off of his PADD, “The Enterprise has been assigned a mission of the utmost importance for continued peace between the Federation and many of our neighbors. Along with a number of other ships, Kirk, you will be transporting a retinue of diplomats and ambassadors to the conference at Babel II. Change your course heading to Starbase 3 immediately. More information about exactly who you will be transporting will be sent to your ship in the next few hours. Expect about thirty.”

“And our current survey?” Jim asked. “Our Science Department says we’re currently on track to finish in a week. I could forward you the preliminary reports. Certainly there are ships better suited to an Ambassador’s taste than the Enterprise.” Jim didn’t add that she hasn’t had to report a single injury or death while they’ve been in orbit around a small moon with unusually high volcanic activity, having only to turn the ship’s scanners at the satellite and let the computers do most of the work. She wished more missions involved watching chains of volcanoes rising and falling over the course of hours down on the Observatory deck. 

“Diplomacy comes first, Captain,” Komack replied. “Surveys can wait until there aren’t politics to deal with.” He set down his PADD - he must have been seated at his desk back in San Francisco. “Besides, the Enterprise was requested for this mission. Komack out.” 

With a sigh, Jim commed up to the Gamma shift Bridge crew. “Kirk here. Pilot, set course for Starbase 3, Warp 5.”

Whoever was on duty quickly acted, even telling Jim, “ETA is 15 hours, Captain,” before she had to ask for it. That was the kind of efficiency she appreciated. 

There was a knock on the bathroom door and the sound of Spock clearing her throat. Sooner or later Jim would have to tell her about their new mission so she let her First Officer in. Spock was wearing a regulation black t-shirt and black sweats, looking far more formal and put together than Jim wearing her wrinkled command golds. 

“What’s up, Spock?” Jim asked, pulling the uniform shirt back off. 

“I just received our new orders,” Spock said. “I thought it would be logical to wake you.” She held her own PADD in her hand. 

Jim shook her head. “I just got off the call with Komack. He told me everything I need to know, all about the Ambassadors --” She yawned and loses her train of thought. Spock just stood there silently. “Right. I think I should go back to sleep so I’m at least a little bit functional tomorrow. Is there anything else you need?”

“If Admiral Komack has already shared information with you, I will not keep you up any longer,” Spock said. “Good night Captain.” 


	2. Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot builds, the tensions rise, two parties are attended.

Bones couldn’t keep her fingers away from the collar of her dress uniform. “I don’t know how you and that Hobgoblin can stand these stupid things,” she muttered to Jim. “You would think Starfleet would be able to engineer something softer.” 

“I cut up a regular shirt and sewed it along the border,” Jims whispered back. “Pike told me to do it after I told him I would be Captain. Apparently everyone who’s anyone does it.” 

Spock, who was standing at Jim’s other side and apparently listening in, said, “I have found that a high-collared undershirt works well, though I understand many Humans find the combination too warm for comfort.” 

Before the conversation could continue, the docking bay doors slid open with a pneumatic hiss. The retinue of diplomats were led by Ambassador Sarek and his wife Amanda, Sarek being the highest ranked among those being transported to the conference. Jim recognized them immediately from the files she memorized before arrival at the Starbase. Sarek was an older Vulcan with an intense glare. He held himself perfectly upright, towering over his much smaller Human wife. She wore the blank expression Jim has learned to expect from Vulcans but still gives off a warm aura like she’s one moment away from smiling. 

Jim offered the ta’al when Sarek approaches, knowing better than to offer a handshake to a touch-telepath. “Welcome aboard the Enterprise, Ambassador Sarek. I am Captain James Kirk. This is my First Officer Commander Spock and my Medical Officer Doctor Leonard McCoy.”

“I know,” Sarek said. Something about his tone of voice set Jim on edge. If Sarek was anything like Spock, then he was upset about something. “It would be for the best if I could examine the quarters you have provided for my retinue.”

“After you go to your quarters, would you like a tour of the ship? Commander Spock would be happy to escort you,” Jim said. She’s damn proud of her ship and would take any opportunity she can to show it off. Besides, a walk through Engineering might be something stuffy Vulcans were into. 

Sarek’s expression became -- somehow -- more stern. “Wouldn’t you as the Captain be able to give a more comprehensive tour of the ship,” he asked, “Commander Spock might instead oversee the boarding process.” 

A little confused, Jim agreed. “Spock, make sure everyone is situated and then come meet up with me to give me a status report. I guess I can show you around the Enterprise.”

“Captain,” Spock said. She nodded and then goes to round up the diplomats. All of them fall in line pretty quickly behind her. Bones makes her escape while Jim is distracted, leaving Jim alone with the couple. 

* * *

If Jim suspected Vulcans had issues with women being in charge, watching the dynamic between Sarek and Amanda cemented that. Wherever Sarek went, Amanda was in half-step behind him. Sarek voiced Amanda’s opinion for her without giving her the time to speak for herself. Jim even tried asking Amanda a few question directly and Sarek still answered for her. By the time they reached the Physics Lab, Jim was about to lose her mind. 

Like a guardian angel, Spock appeared in the doorway while Jim was in the middle of trying to explain an experiment she didn’t really understand. “Oh, Spock. Did you come and join us for the tour?”

“You asked for me to ‘meet up’, Captain,” Spock said calmly. “Though I calculated the odds of the tour having concluded to be approximately 80%.” 

“As always, Spock, your calculations are off,” Sarek said. “Has Starfleet encouraged this habit of approximation?” There was a charge of tension between the two Vulcans and Jim instinctively stepped back. “I must prepare for the Conference in my room. My wife will complete the tour without me.” He absconded faster than is probably formal. 

Jim turned to Spock and asked, “You know the Ambassador?” 

“It would be strange if I did not know the Ambassador. Sarek and Lady Grayson are my parents,” Spock explained. She inclined her head to her mother. Now that her husband was gone, Amanda had lost her blank expression and was now smiling openly.

“Spock, I can’t believe you didn’t tell your Captain that you were hosting your own parents,” Amanda chastised. “I put in the request for the Enterprise because I wanted to see you.” She embraced Spock and the tips of Spock’s ears turned green in the Vulcan equivalent of a blush. “Now Captain Kirk was just trying to explain this project but I’m sure you can do a much more comprehensive job of it, kanbu.” 

Spock pulled out of her mother’s embrace. “Mother, I would stay but I still have work to do. I am sure the Captain will do a satisfactory job.” She turned on her heel and started to leave but when she reached the door, she paused. “I will see both of you at the reception tonight.” 

Once her daughter has left, Amanda’s expression turned serious, sad. “Captain Kirk, may I call you James?”

“Oh, please, Lady Grayson, call me Jim,” Jim said. “Is there something troubling you?”

“I have a request to make of you, as a friend of my daughter,” Amanda said. “She talks about you constantly when she calls home. I hope you think I’m not being too forward with you. I just -- it’s Sarek. Sarek has become incredibly ill and he and Spock are still not speaking after many, many years. I want the two of them to make up in case Sarek doesn’t recover.” Jim wondered what sort of things Spock could have said about Jim that would make Amanda think that Jim and Spock were close. 

Amanda looked at Jim with such worry and care in her eyes that Jim found herself at a loss. “I don’t know if I’m the right person on the ship to ask but I can talk to Spock about it.” 

“You should know then, that the main reason Spock and Sarek are at such odds is that Sarek wanted Spock to attend the VSA while Spock wished to join Starfleet. They are both such stubborn people,” Amanda said. “I love them both so much and to see them like this breaks my heart.” 

“More stubborn than your regular Vulcan then?” Jim asked.

Gravely, Amanda nodded. “I fear it might be genetic.”

* * *

Thirty hours time found Jim and Spock lying next to each other on biobeds in the Medbay. Jim had been swimming out of consciousness after over-exerting herself when she tried to take control of the Enterprise while still recovering from the assassination attempt. She was vaguely aware of the Bridge crew cycling through, of Bones, of Nurse Chapel, of Amanda. Whatever Bones had her taking was strong enough to keep her thoughts foggy and sensations and words just slide off of her like water. 

When Jim came to with a degree of permanence, Spock was having a quiet conversation with her father. She let the soothing sounds of Vulcan wash over her. Then Spock said something in Standard, “I would not trade Starfleet for the VSU, Father.” 

“I have realized, daughter, that it is not my place to ask you to trade. If you will succeed in Starfleet, I cannot deny you,” Sarek responded. “You are too much like me for both of our own well beings. I am sure your mother would agree, I am sure --.”

Spock interrupted, “Captain, have you recovered?” 

Caught eavesdropping, Jim couldn’t do anything but sheepishly respond, “Give me another few hours and I’ll probably feel better than before someone tried to kill me.” 

“Captain Kirk, I have brought much chaos to your ship and for this I must apologize,” Sarek said. He already looked healthier than when he first stepped aboard the Enterprise. 

When Amanda Grayson walked into the room, attention quickly turned to her. Both Vulcans brightened noticeably in her presence. “It is gratifying to hear you apologize, Sarek. But not as gratifying as seeing you and Spock talking again.”

“You are overly concerned,” Sarek said with the Vulcan version of a grumble, the barest drop in tone, undetectable unless someone -- Jim, for example -- was trying to hear something. 

“Father, you must not blame her, after all, she is only human,” Spock added, teasing. “If she weren’t gratified and concerned in equal measures, we would have to deduce she has been replaced by an assassin.” 

To her credit, Amanda Grayson only smiled benevolently at her husband and daughter. 

* * *

There was always another diplomatic dinner to attend, always another President’s grasping hands to avoid, always another opportunity to gorge on alien cuisine and then have an allergic reaction and stave off food for the rest of the mission. Jim was used to the push and pull of her job for the most part, and though she was often frustrated by the politics she must play, she put on a sporting show. 

The Second Chancellor of Arxo III cornered her during a party put on by his government to welcome the Enterprise and the host of diplomats and Star Fleet officials they have brought. The focus of the evening was the finalization of an alliance with the Arxians and the Federation but the real appeal of the optional event was the drinks provided by the Arxians. Arxo III was one of the most beloved shore leave locations because of their strange and inventive beverages. 

Jim’s personal favorite was the aptly named Street Ale, a swill cheaper than rainwater that locals passed around and would sell to a tourist if said tourist knew where to ask. It tasted of maple syrup and burned all the way down. Unfortunately, Street Ale was not considered conducive to diplomatic inroads and couldn’t be found at all in the compound. Probably on account of the small chance for certain people that drinking it induced vivid visions of the future. 

“I see you are drinking a Sholat Soda,” the Chancellor said, standing close enough to Jim that if the peace talks weren’t continuing tomorrow, she would tell him to fuck off. She could tell where his high-collared jacket had rub the fur away from his neck, creating an off-putting flesh-colored necklace that Jim couldn’t tear her eyes away from. “The Sholat fruit is one that can only be harvested once every third year. There are imitation -- chemically flavored -- cheap knock-offs, but there cannot compare.” 

The drink in question tasted like flat Pepsi, Jim had only taken it because one of the waiters had been walking around with a tray of them and now more than ever regretted it acutely. “It’s delicious,” she said politely. “It lives up to its reputation.” 

“I could guide you, show you which drinks are deserving of such admiration. I am considered quite the expert on mixing drinks as well, Captain. Perhaps you would be interested in a private demonstration?” asked the Chancellor. His whiskers twitched furiously and his tail waved with all the determination of a overwound metronome. 

Jim resolutely wanted the opposite of that. “I’d rather stay at the party. Make sure my crew doesn’t get into any trouble,” she said, trying to pull herself from his pressing hands.

“It would be quite rude of me not to offer an invitation to a woman as young and pretty as you. My honor insists that I repeat myself. I could show you what Arxo has to offer, what Arxo’s lovers have to offer,” he said, bending down so he could whisper this in her ear.

She tried to take a step back but she was already against a wall. Jim’s eyes swept the room, trying to find anyone from her crew who could come save her. Finally she spotted Spock, only a short distance away, engaged in conversation with a few of her Science ensigns. Spock met her gaze with a raised eyebrow but still approached. 

The Chancellor had become more insistent, his hand on her waist, and Jim was ready to use force, and Spock’s three-times-as-much-as-a-human force too to knock him away. Instead when Spock reached her, she wrapped a casual arm around Jim’s waist. “I am afraid that you are not the Captain’s type,” Spock said with easy possessiveness, lifting her eyebrow into a perfect arch. “She prefers someone who can handle herself in public.” Every ounce of Vulcan condescension was poured into those words and Jim took back every terrible thought she’s ever had about the uppityness of Vulcans. 

Then the Chancellor drooped, stepped back, sheepishly replied, “If I had known the Captain was already occupied for the night, I wouldn’t have asked.” With his tail between his legs, he wandered back into the crowd, sufficiently embarrassed. 

Spock burned like a furnace everywhere Jim was in contact with her. She watched the Chancellor leave with narrowed eyes and a noticeable frown. “What a distasteful man,” she commented. “It was fortuitous that I saw the situation that I might intervene.” Her fingers dug deeper into Jim’s waist and Jim felt as though she was being crushed. In a lower voice, Spock asked, “Did he touch you?” 

“Nothing too serious, just another extra-friendly beaurocrat,” Jim said. She tried to extricate herself from Spock’s grip but Spock didn’t let her go. “Uhhh, I think he’s gone, you can probably go back to your ensigns.”

“I would rather keep up the charade on the off chance he sees you alone and gains the confidence for a second approach. Especially if he already considered himself allowed to be ‘extra-friendly’.” Spock insisted. She readjusted herself so now her side was pressed almost fully against Jim’s. “I believe Dr. McCoy is motioning for us to come over.” 

Jim muttered, “I’m sure she is,” as she was dragged to greet the good doctor. 

Bones was standing with Nurse Chapel, Scotty, and a few other officers. “What’s the occasion?” she drawled, taking great pleasure in the sight of Jim’s discomfort. 

“The Second Chancellor was acting less than diplomatically towards Captain Kirk,” Spock explained. “I disabused him of his notions that she might be wooed by intimidation and superbia.” 

Jim snorted, “Right Spock, because you know how I want to be wooed.” Scotty and Bones exchangeed an uninterpretable look. 

“Based on interactions with potential partners I have viewed, you favor people closer to your own height, you prefer a more intellectual conversation, and just as you choose friends you also look for an affability and measure of wit,” Spock said. “I am believe these conditions apply to about 96.34% of people you consider for a... romantic liaison.” 

“Really?” Jim asked incredulously. “Well then, who here at this party would I hit it off with best?” 

“I have not observed many attendants in any other situation and am therefore unable to calculate who exactly you would find the most suitable,” Spock said. “I could give a more accurate estimation if I had long-term access to the attendants, for example, as I do with the crew of the Enterprise. But if I had to -- as the humans say -- guess, you would find someone to your tastes among the diplomatic aides of the Federation or the scientists for Arxo III.” 

“A broad group,” Jim commented. 

“I lack vital information, it is not a statement about your preferences,’ Spock replied. “Besides, I would advise against pursuing anyone else tonight. The Second Chancellor is still watching.” Jim caught sight of him over Spock’s shoulder, making awkward eye contact with him.

“I guess they just make anyone who asks a Chancellor, huh?” Chapel asked. “You already turned him down, he can go off and annoy someone paid to put up with him.”

“I wouldn’t wish him on anyone,” Jim said. She saw the Chancellor again, already closer, circling like a vulture. “Would it kill him to leave me alone? I’ve already got a Vulcan bodyguard.” 

“Perhaps that is where the issue lies,” Spock replied. “I am too much the bodyguard and not enough the partner. Keep an eye on him, Captain, and inform me when approaches ear range.” 

The conversation continued around Jim, Scotty describing some new dilithium energy level sub-process she wanted experiment on, while Jim kept a steady, subtle eye on the Chancellor. Finally he approached , perhaps sensing how Spock’s grip had substantially loosened and how Jim now stood without being half-propped up by her. Jim pulled carefully at the hem of Spock’s dress shirt. 

“Do you trust me?” Spock whispered. Jim nodded, because how can she not? Spock is a capable First Officer, efficient, of genius intellect. “Then you must forgive for I have calculated the odds of this succeeding only in our favor if I overstep established boundaries.” With that said, her hand -- her bare hand, was suddenly tilting Jim’s chin up until their lips were a breath apart. Then the hand traveled back to cup the line of Jim’s jaw and then there wasn’t any space between them at all. 

Spock kissed forcefully and Jim let herself be consumed, directed, filled. If she thought Spock was burning before through layers of clothing, Jim felt as if every place where their skin touches, stars were being born. Jim’s own hands moved up to rest against Spock’s sides. Kissing was good, Jim liked kissing, she had kissed many men and women and gender non-conforming people. And now she’d also kissed Spock. 

A man cleared his throat and Spock pulled away. “Greetings, Second Chancellor,” she said blandly. 

“Can we help you?” Jim asked. 

“I don’t mean to interrupt but it seems as if there has been a diplomatic incident involving one of your Federation officials,” the Second Chancellor said with obvious glee. “I believe your Ambassador is looking for you, Captain.” 

The Ambassador emerged from the crowd a moment later. “Ah, Kirk. Thank goodness. There’s been an incident with a phaser and you’re needed immediately,” she said. “You better bring Doctor McCoy with you as well.” 

“Duty calls,” Jim told everyone. Spock released her grasp and nods, the picture of professionalism. 

* * *

Three days later, Jim knocked on the door from the bathroom to the First Officer’s quarters. Spock buzzed her in without hesitation. Jim realized with a start this is the first time she had ever been in Spock’s room. The layout was the mirror of Jim’s, with a full-sized bed, a desk, and a set of shelves for personal items. There was also a small table and chairs, clearly set up as an extension of the desk space and not so much for having guests over, as Jim’s equivalent was. There were a few items of Vulcan origin on the shelves, as well as incense and sealed-containers which Jim assumed were for meditation. 

Spock herself was wearing only the black thermal standard issue under-uniform clothes and, much to Jim’s delight and surprise, bright orange socks. She sat at her desk but stood once Jim entered the room. 

“I wanted to make sure we’re good after the last mission,” Jim started. “Or that we aren’t worse than we were before?” 

“I have not noticed a difference in workplace efficiency in either of us following the events of Arxo III, Captain,” Spock repled. “Would you like to sit?” They both look at the table and chairs, on which both books and PADDs were stacked, leaving little room for two grown women. “There is space on the bed,” she hesitated, “I believe the human expression is: make yourself at home.” 

Jim flopped down on the bed and Spock, more primly, sat down next to her. Jim laughed at the strange little absurdities of the moment which caused Spock to give her a quizzical look. “Having a heart-to-heart on a bed is very slumber party. I feel like I’m sixteen all over again.” She twisted so she was on her stomach. Kicking her feet in the air and twirling a strand of her hair between her fingers, in her best impression of a teenager, “So do you want to talk about boys or something?”

“I cannot think of a single occasion in my lifetime where I have wanted to talk about ‘boys’,” Spock replied. “I am unsure of what the purpose of this exercise is, I was under the impression you wished to discuss Arxo III.” 

“Sure, let’s talk about Arxo. First, thanks again for getting that Chancellor to back off. We girls have to stick together, right? I mean, I know you’re a touch telepath so I kinda wanted to make sure you were alright after -- well after touching me like that,” Jim said. She rolled back over so she was laying flat on her back looking up at the ceiling. “Seeing someone else’s thoughts probably isn’t all that enjoyable.” 

Spock considered this and Jim wished she could see the Vulcan’s face, if only to try and piece together her thoughts. “I am able to shield myself when I know touch is inevitable, blocking everything but the faintest impressions of mood unless the person is specifically broadcasting a telepathic message,” she said. “But in the case of your thoughts, whether I am prepared to shield or not, they do not cause me undue harm.” She paused for a moment before asking, “Are these slumber parties common practice?”

“Humans love slumber parties,” Jim said. “They vary a lot based on age and personality but basically anyone who's really close friends can have one. The most important parts are having deep conversations into the night and having fun hanging out -- watch movies, play games. It’s all about bonding. Do Vulcans not have slumber parties?”

“Vulcans have their own equivalent, yes. Young children often benefit from exposure to family dynamics which differ from their own, learn a measure of tolerance,” Spock said. “Though I do not think they occur with the same frequency as they do for Humans.” 

Jim snorted. “Oh, I can imagine a Vulcan slumber party. You’d all work on homework and then go to bed at a reasonable hour,” she joked. 

“That was my approximate experience with such parties,” Spock said. “I found them intolerable when I was the proper age for them. Or my peers themselves lacking.” 

“Ms. Spock are you angling for a slumber party now?” Jim asked. Then laughed. “I should probably head back to my quarters and sleep. I feel like I’ve been awake a hundred hours.” As if to prove her point, she couldn’t stop herself from yawning. 

“It would have been impossible for you to have been awake for such an extended period of time and to escape the notice of myself or Doctor McCoy,” Spock said. And she was right, because Spock was always right. The last time Jim had pulled an all-nighter, Bones had caught her and threatened to place her on medical leave if she tried that again. “Our conversation has been fascinating, Captain. I, however, will see you tomorrow.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I should clarify that I have this entire piece written already. So look forward to reading the final installment next Tuesday. Or if you're in the future beyond next Tuesday, please enjoy the entirety of 'There's Nothing Out There Like Me'.
> 
> As always, comments and kudos prevent the dilithium crystals from fracturing at high warp speeds!


	3. Part Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter! Please enjoy the thrilling Sapphic conclusion!

On the Bridge, at the end of Alpha shift, Spock stood up when Jim did. “Need something, Cmdr.?” 

“Are you otherwise occupied after this shift?” Spock asked. “I have acquired a 3-D chess board and you are the only other competitively ranked chess player aboard.” 

Nyota, already most of the way into the turbolift, said, “If you don’t play her, I will and nobody wants to watch that again.” He shuddered theatrically. “She’s too good for the rest of the crew to play against and it’s up to you to save us from her winning streak.” 

“If it’s for the good of the ship,” Jim said. “Then there’s nothing I can do to turn down your offer, Spock. Shall we make an announcement and play in front of everyone in the Rec Room?” 

“I find no issue in that,” Spock said. “Though you should know that Lt. Uhura does not exaggerate my uninterrupted success.”

“How many crew members have you played?” Jim asked, amazed. And here she thought she had her finger on the pulse of the ship. How had she missed a chess tournament? She loved chess tournaments! They had been a bright highlight in her dismal adolescence.

“Many, but I look forward to challenging you,” Spock said, as everyone piled into the lift together. Jim and Spock ended up in the frontward corner, crowded into each other. 

“Don’t get too cocky, Spock,” Jim said. “I’m not half-bad at chess.” She gave Spock her best smile, the one that had got her into as much trouble as it had gotten her out of. Spock raised a single eyebrow. 

“We shall see.” 

* * *

Sitting in front of Bones desk, Jim chattered about nothing while Bones finished filling out patient files for the day. “There really needs to be more Rec Rooms,” Jim complained. “I’ve never been in one that’s not loud enough to give a girl ear damage. I was talking to Spock about it and she says that she avoids going immediately after meal times and right after shifts. But what other time does that leave? I’m not going to wake up in the middle of the night just to sit in room for an hour and lose at pool to an ensign.”

“You spoke to Spock about this?” Bones asked. “I didn’t know you were getting so friendly with the Hobgoblin. You’re gonna pull her in seven directions at once.”

“I think she’s finally warmed up to the old Jimmy Kirk style of leadership, got over whatever weird thing against female captains she had. Ever since Arxo III, we’ve come to a better understanding, I think,” Jim said. “Wait, seven directions?”

Bones frowned. “You should know exactly what I mean. That poor Vulcan has one hell of a crush on you and you’ve been hot and cold on her every day since the start of this mission.” 

Jim leaned forward in her seat, putting her elbows on Bones’ desk even though she knew that Bones hated when she did it. “How do you know that?”

“Spock came in to see me, asking all about ‘what does the Captain mean when she winks at me?’ and ‘do you know if the Captain feels overworked?’ and bothering me with a million more that I can’t remember,” Bones said. “I’m not an idiot, Kirk.” 

“Well, I guess I am,” Jim said. “Because I had no fucking clue. I honest to god thought she hated me until like two weeks ago.”

“Why would you think that she hated you?” 

“I just assumed that she thought I was a stupid, incompetent Human female not physically or mentally strong enough to take on the strain of command,” Jim exclaimed. “It sounds ridiculous when I say it outloud. I swear though, she treats me like I’m made of glass. But there’s also her parents! Her dad treats her mom like her mom is unable to make a single decision and everything I’ve read states that Vulcans have these strict families. I told you about this? The Vulcan patriarchy?”

“That’s a lot to unpack, Jim,” Bones replied. She rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Jesus Christ. No wonder Spock was floundering trying to seduce you. You don’t know the first thing about Vulcan society, do you. Have you even heard of T’Pau?”

The name was familiar enough. “That’s the Vulcan in charge of their Council of Elders, right?” Jim asked. 

“Therefore, I doubt Spock would have issues with women wielding command when T’Pau is her grandmother!” Bones said. She slammed her hand on her desk for dramatic effect and cursed when she sends a tricorder to the ground. 

In a very small voice, Jim said, “I didn’t realize T’Pau was a woman.” Now, louder, Jim says, “I need to go think about this for the next three months.” She stood up. “Only comm me if the Romulans attack.”

As Jim left, Bones shouted to her back, “If you actually let Spock stew for three months, I’m going to hypo you so far into the future you’re going to miss your own funeral!” 

* * *

Jim wished she had talked to Spock in the week after the revelation from Bones. But every time Spock looked at her, Jim couldn’t help but wonder what emotions she wasn’t able to read on the Vulcan’s face. Jim thought she was some kind of expert in reading Vulcan expressions, that she could interpret the smallest turns of her mouth and the slightest changes in posture. But somehow Jim had missed the fact Spock was into her. And this left Jim completely uncertain on how to act around her First Officer. 

Jim knew it was silly to be afraid of talking to Spock about Spock’s crush because she talked to Spock about a million other things in the meantime. 

Until it didn’t matter, because in that week, everything goes wrong. 

The Enterprise was assigned to check in on a mining colony is some distant part of the quadrant. When they reached the planet, solar flares assured that communication both from the planet to the ship and the ship to the ‘Fleet was interrupted and intermittent. Spock and Jim and a few members of Security and Engineering all beamed down to the surface but after they arrived, the transporter went down without reason, though Jim didn’t realize this until she couldn’t reach Scotty and phaser beams wer sending up clouds of dust and sparks around her. 

The mining colony had been sold to the Klingons and Starfleet just had the bad luck to send the Enterprise right after the deal had gone through. The planet-side officers were arrested despite their brief firefight, split up into pairs and thrown into cells barely big enough for one. 

Days passed with little word from either their captors or the Enterprise. Spock and Jim were tucked into a space so small, in order for both of them to fit, one needed to be on the bed at all times. They switched off, Jim would lie on the floor for an hour and then would lie on the bed for an hour, while Spock performed the opposite. Jim was almost entirely certain her leg was broken during their capture when one of the Klingons took a baton to her shin but didn’t want to tell Spock because then Spock would let her lie in the bed the entire time and then Spock would more likely than not exacerbate her own injuries. 

A terrified miner delivered cups of water and stale ration bars once or twice a day, which was better than silence. Food meant negotiations for their release hadn’t completely dissolved. Until four days in, when the miner had disappeared and there were no longer noises from outside the small window across the hall from the cell. The other officers panicked, Jim could hear them. Their cells were on the other side of a divide and Jim couldn’t see them at all. She wished she had some words of assurance to give them but the pain and the thirst and the hunger dulled her mind and she figured she’d rather not say anything than make the situation worse. 

In the two days that followed, the other officers grew quiet in a way that made Jim sick to her stomach to think about. But Spock and Jim survived, because Spock didn’t need as much water and hoarded it in those cups under the bed and Jim couldn’t help but to tuck half of her food into the pocket of her pants because nothing scares her more than running out. 

Jim sat up. Spock turned over to look at her and the bed creaked with the movement. “I don’t want to die like this,” Jim croaked, her voice cracking. “Not trapped in this cell, starving to death.” 

“I share the sentiment,” Spock said. “This is not how I envisioned my death.” There was silence for what could have been hours. “Captain, there is something of utmost necessity I must discuss with you.” 

“If you’re going to tell me your in love with me, Spock, at least use my name,” Jim joked before her brain catches up with her mouth and she remembered that Spock very well may be about to confess romantic inclinations. “Please, tell me.”

“You know,” Spock said, she sounded exhausted. “How long have you known?”

“A week before they threw us in the cell,” Jim admitted. “I wanted to talk to you about it but it just never felt like the right moment. Spock, I care deeply for you.” She tried to stand up, only for her leg to give out underneath her. Spock caught her before she hit the ground, pulled her into the bed. “I can’t think of anyone I would rather die beside.” 

Spock rested her forehead against Jim’s. “I ought to tear your captors limb from limb after what they have done to you. They have hurt you beyond measure, that you would think we would die in this miserable place.”

“That’s the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me,” Jim replied, feeling oddly giddy. “I know Vulcans don’t do the whole touch thing much but do you mind holding for a little longer?”

Carefully, Spock positioned both of them on the small bed so they were lying on their sides, Jim’s face pressed into Spock’s shoulder and Spock’s arms tight around her. Jim could feel the Vulcan’s heart beat against her stomach and the steady rise and fall of her chest. The warmth of Spock was welcome against the coldness that settled on the edges of Jim’s psyche more than her physical form. “I found myself unable to calculate the odds of you accepting any romantic proposition from myself.”

“Am I too unpredictable?” Jim asked. “Or are you lacking data?”

“I have spent months caught in your orbit, if there is anything that I lack, it is certainly not data,” Spock replied. “No, I did not do the calculations because I was afraid they would tell me you would not react well to the news.”

“If you had told me earlier, we probably could have avoided a lot of nonsense. I honestly thought you hated me! Like --,” Jim paused. “Well it doesn’t matter anymore, I’d rather not talk about it.” Tears started to well up and Jim shifted away in order to wipe them off.

“If death was not an almost certainty, I doubt I would ever tell you this: I am deeply in love with you, James Kirk,” Spock said with complete conviction. “And if you cry, I will assuredly cry too.” 

* * *

An explosion woke Jim from a hazy dream. There were the brief sounds of battle: phasers firing, shouting. Whatever happened to the Klingons a few days ago had not prevented at least a few of them from mounting a small defense against Starfleet. When the noise subsided, Jim could hear the faint sounds of Standard being spoken with an accent that was blessedly not that of the enemy. She sat up, mirrored by Spock beside her. Then the wall across the hall shook and crumbled into rubble under the force of a makeshift battering ram under the direction of Sulu and Chekov. 

“Keptain! Commander!” Chekov shouted. “You’re alive!” Then she turned to Sulu and said, “You should know better than to doubt the raw survival skills of Keptain Kirk and Commander Spock.” 

Sulu was grinning as she ran up to the cell. Jim waved her away. “You need to go check on the others first, down the hall. I don’t know their status or condition but Spock and I will last another ten minutes, one way or another.” Sulu hesitated but turned to go find the other officers. 

“Scotty?” Chekov barked into her comm. “I have identified the location of the Keptain and Commander! Please! Beam them up!” 

Scotty’s reply was warped by the comm and by its distance from Jim but she felt the familiar disassembling of the transporter and let herself be swept back up to the Enterprise.

Hours later, after McCoy had wrestled Jim into a biobed in the Medbay and had shoved her broken leg into a temporary cast while she waited for surgery, Nyota stopped in to give Jim and Spock a short briefing on what happened following their abduction.

“The negotiations with the Klingons went poorly from the beginning,” Nyota said. “But the miners were starting to get unhappy with their presence as well. According to one we were able to capture, they had started poisoning all the Klingon’s food supply. The Klingons caught on quickly when they were getting sick and the miners weren’t. But before the Klingons could kill all the miners, one of their engineers was able to disable the anti-communication device and we beamed down to break you out.” 

“And the other officers?” Jim asked. She and Spock had been placed in one of the smaller rooms off of the main medbay, a request Jim had put in after the first time she’d ended a mission injured. Nothing brought crew morale lower than seeing their Captain unconscious on a biobed. 

Nyota frowned and turned his face to look at the wall. “Lts. Jamir and Lo’ret survived but none of the ensigns did. They’re a little worse off than the two of you in terms of starvation and dehydration but they didn’t face as much physical trauma as you either.” Jim wondered if Nyoto knew any of the dead ensigns, if any of them were Communication Officers under him, if he was friends with them. Then it hit Jim, she couldn’t remember the names of the ensigns at all. She had always been careful to memorize the crew roster, but ensigns transferred or only stayed for a month or died with such frequency that she often lost their names after not seeing them around for a few days. 

“At least two made it out with us,” Jim said. “I can’t wait to put this whole, awful mission behind us.” All she wanted now was to stand under a hot shower until her entire body turned splotchy and red but her leg was still broken and there were letters to families that needed to be written. 

* * *

Bones released Jim and Spock back to their quarters after two days of observation and the promise that they would behave themselves until their shifts started the next day. “Nothing strenuous!” she warned them, brandishing her PADD. 

Jim entered her room and Spock was only a half-step behind her. “Captain,” Spock said. “James. We need to discuss what happened on Mining Colony Theta-12.”

“Sure,” Jim said. She flopped down on her bed and relished that it didn’t smell like disinfectant. “Yes,” she added, more seriously. “A lot happened.” 

“I told you I am in love with you,” Spock said. She eyed the bed and the open space next to Jim but chose instead to commandeer the desk chair and pull it over so she could sit facing Jim. “But I told you this because I calculated the odds of us escaping as being less than 12.543%.” 

“So you regret it?” Jim asked. “You regret telling me you love me? Or is regret one of the emotions Vulcans aren’t allowed to feel?” 

Spock reached out and placed her hand on Jim’s knee. Jim stared down at it, shocked. “I wish to say that I am grateful that we were in a situation where I could tell you how I feel about you without having to face the cultural pressure of your species and mine,” she said. “I would not lie to you about loving you.” 

“What did I ever do to deserve someone like you?” Jim asked. “You even do the paperwork.” She reached out with her hand, offering it. Spock pressed hers against it, so they were palm to palm. “Spock, I’ve had time to think about all this and I don’t know what to do. If anyone could work out the logical solution to this problem, it’s probably you. There’s two outcomes if I decide to date you: either we break up or we stay together until the day we die. But there’s also consequences if we don’t: our command team suffers because its weird, we split up over hurt feelings and the Enterprise loses the best First Officer in the Fleet. I don’t want to take advantage of you, Spock, because I respect you and you’re my friend, so can you give me the odds?” 

“You are a singularly unpredictable element in many respects, I have discovered,” Spock replied. “In the past, knowing the odds have not changed your mind or assisted in your decision process when the decision could affect the fate of your ship or your crew. Therefore I will tell you this: I would spend the rest of my life by your side if you permitted me, and if I had my way, you would spend the rest of your life by mine.” 

“Are you offering to marry me?” Jim asked. “Because that’s moving pretty fast, even for me.” She wanted to chuckle with the absurdity of it all but Spock hadn’t even flinched. 

“Marriage as a concept should be saved for future discussions,” Spock said. “What I am instead suggesting is that we engage in the human activity of ‘making out’.” She stood up from the chair so she could move to the bed, never breaking physical contact, which resulted in her basically climbing atop of Jim. 

Jim grabbed hold of the edge of Spock’s shirt, pulling her closer. “You’re handsy for a Vulcan,” she commented. 

“I have spent months calculating the odds of us touching on any given day. Captain, you’ll have to forgive me this,” Spock said. “Now hold still so I can kiss you properly.” 

“Oh Commander!” Jim said in a falsetto before she was silenced with Spock’s lips on her own. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I only write like... one fic a year but I'm always glad when people leave kudos and comments. The lesbian laser is fully charged, any interaction will bring mercy from our new wlw overlords.

**Author's Note:**

> I think that this fic idea has been banging around in my head forever, just because I liked the idea of fem!Jim not realizing that Vulcans have a matriarchy.  
> Please kudos & comment in order to give Lesbians more power.


End file.
